


Birthright

by Maigerz



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, death by childbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maigerz/pseuds/Maigerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One instance of new life brings the end of another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthright

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a little fanfic based off of torritorri's (on tumblr) works. Specifically a comic from an AU where Marinette had died during childbirth. You can find it here! http://toriitorii.tumblr.com/post/140075818156/au-where-marinette-died-during-child-birth-lays  
> This is also my first ML fanfic, so hope it goes well! Also, tiny spoilers for the Origin episodes.

The way that he had been informed of the pregnancy was an incident that only Marinette could come up with. It was stupid, silly, and utterly charming. A ridiculous way to break the news that your wife was pregnant - but, all the same, he had laughed and lifted her up from the ground in a celebratory stance.

Of course Mari would think of putting a literal bun in their literal oven. Yet, all the same, he was filled to the brim with utter excitement and joy when he realized what the piece of bread actually meant.

Needless to say, he was quite proud of her for coming up with this one.

The several next months had flown by in a blur. Marinette insisted that their daughter (daughter, they were having a daughter! As they had learned as soon as they could get the ultrasounds that would reveal to them the sex of their child) would be showered in only the finest handmade clothing, made by her. By the time that she was having difficulty in walking, and even more difficulty sleeping, she spent much of her time stitching and sewing away at the sweetest outfits. Meanwhile, Adrien had worked himself on the crib and helping Marinette - when she could manage it - with painting the walls with colourful cartoon characters.

Admittedly, Adrien was not the best artist, so much of the time was spent with colouring in the drawings that Marinette created. Though, hey, at least he could do things like built the best crib for their girl! And, he had to say, he was pretty dang good at colouring in the lines. He also took no the duty of shopping for the last minute things they needed for the baby, making sure that Marinette would be able to take as much rest as she possibly needed in those last few months.

Thankfully, it was an easy pregnancy. The early onset of morning sickness was easily mended by soda crackers, warm ginger ale and ginger root, which Marinette's Maman has insisted had aided her during her own pregnancy. Like with many women, the nausea eventually did subside the more that the weeks piled on.

She did have moments of grumpiness and sudden spats of anger/sadness, but soon enough Adrien learned how to deal with the mood swings; and even the mood swings began to fade away. Adrien did quickly learn though just how nasty her bark could be when she was in a particularly bad mood. It was always best to cuddle her (rubbing her swollen stomach all the while) and treat her with delicious food until she calmed down.

The food cravings were no problem, Adrien was far too happy to retrieve her cravings (which were more than often caramel and sea salted macaraons) for his princess, whenever she ever so desired them.

The worst she complained were two instances: one was about was the constant need to go to the bathroom. It always amused the hell out of Adrien to watch her waddle her way to the bathroom every so often, and she complained that he could at least help her on her way there. The other was just how hard it was in the latter months to find a comfortable position to sleep in. She tittered on often about it, but ultimately knew it was worth it to see the outcome out of this whole thing.

But, when it came down to it, the good moments were worth those sour moments.

He could so clearly remember the first time she excitedly called him to the living room, going on about how the baby was moving.

"I swear it, she's dancing to the music you're playing," Marinette said with a sweet, excited smile, one hand over her belly. Adrien had been in the middle of making dinner for them, playing music on the radio as he usually did during that time.

Adrien followed her gaze downwards, a dither of astonishment running through him as he reached down and placed his hand beside her own. There was indeed noticeable movement, and his jaw nearly dropped from how stunned he was.

That was his kid. Their kid. Their daughter, moving around in there, as healthy as could be, dancing to the music on the radio.

A giggle escaped from his wife, and he could only guess that the look on his face was nothing short of foolish. He was pretty damn sure that by this point he had the most idiotic grin pasted across his mug. He looked back up at her, grin widening. "Betcha she's going to be an incredible dancer. I can't even see her, but I'm betting she's got some great moves going on in there."

"Well, I can actually feel everything going on, and I think it's safe to say she does have some dancing skills," Marinette responded with another giggle, her eyes filled with mirth. "I know for sure she's going to be a music lover."

After another few minutes, the movement calmed down, and Adrien went back to his previous duties.

Indeed, the great moments like this could outweigh any of the bad.

...at least. That's what Adrien had thought to himself during those nine months.

The day of Emma's birth (Adrien had soon learned of Marinette's desired names for their children, and they quickly agreed that Emma would be great for their first one, on the idea that they might have more after her) had started off rather smoothly. So far, Marinette hadn't been hit with anything bad that some ladies do when pregnant - gestational diabetes had never hit her way. All the ultrasounds had come out great. The baby was perfectly healthy. Marinette was perfectly healthy. All was going pretty great.

So, when Marinette suddenly froze as they were watching TV and announced that she believed her water just broke, he wasn't too worried. Oh, yes, of course he was still worried, but the excitement overpowered any concerned he had. In the back of his mind Adrien was well aware of the dangers that could come with childbirth, but everything had been going so smoothly that he never truly considered it happening to their wife.

"Okay, so we have everything we need in your overnight bag. How are you doing?" Adrien turned to Marinette as she strapped herself into their car.

She smiled at him reassuringly, but the smile was a tad weak. He could only guess that she as in pain, and she confirmed it with her next sentences. "Definitely starting to get the beginning cramps. They can never tell you how bad your labour pains are going to be, so just be prepared yourself that they might get worse."

"Me get prepared?" Adrien snorted as he started up the vehicle. "You're the one that's going to be in pain."

"You're probably going to be hurting a bit as well when I'm holding your hand and squeezing the hell out of it with all my strength."

Now that made him wince a bit, just knowing how strong his lady could be. Nevertheless, he responded easily, "It'll be worth having my hand crushed into fine power just to see our daughter come through healthy and fine."

And with that, they were off.

The hospital wasn't too far away, making for a short drive. Marinette had taken some childbirth classes, and had learned of how exactly you should breathe during labour. By the time they were at the hospital, she was doing those breathing exercises, telling Adrien in a muddled voice that the contractions were definitely starting to get worse. Thankfully the hospital was well aware that Marinette was to give birth any day now, and was fully ready to take her in. Soon enough she was in a room safe and snug, and ready to get through the process of labour.

They would later inform him it was from extreme blood loss.

Postpartum hemorrhage.

Even in the modern day, even in present Paris, complications can still arrive from childbirth. After everything that had happened, Adrien had become somewhat obsessed with researching death by childbirth in the little spare time that he had. He had learned that thousands of women died from childbirth each year. Many of them from the third world countries, but it was still plainly possible in first world countries as well.

It was certainly the most painful lesson he had to learn.

She had been doing great at first. She had dilated quickly, so they were hopeful that she wouldn't have to be in the discomfort she was for too long. True to her word, Adrien's hand was being squeezed so badly his face couldn't help but screw itself up, but he was certain that by the way Marinette was shouting and sweating bullets, she was far worse off than he was.

Constantly he would pour encouragements onto her, _you're great you're doing wonderful my princess you're doing excellent you could get through this_ , although he wasn't entirely sure if they were registering in her brain.

What did register in her brain was their doctor announcing that Emma was crowning.

Head first, thank God.

One last push, one last shove, and she slid out in a mess of fluids and gore, a fresh cry piercing the room as she came out. It was nearly impossible to make out her features with the disaster that completely covered her tiny body, but as the doctor wrapped Emma up, it was clear immediately to Adrien that she must have come out as healthy as they had hoped.

He turned to Marinette, the smile slipping off his face when he saw her expression.

They later said that there was nothing they could do.

Now, naturally he expected her to be wiped out. It was a quick birth, painful but quick, but even a quick one would manage to take out all the power in the mother. He paused, inspecting her, briefly forgetting about their newborn daughter. Her eyes seemed bleary, zoned out, eyelids looking like they had been caked in cement; they seemed to heavy that she could barely keep them open. And upon looking down, he could see that the blood between her legs continued to pour out.

"Mari---d-doctor---?" he could never get out his words when he was anxious and, currently, anxiety was starting to hit him in waves. A feeling of dread washed over him as he looked back up at his wife, throat constricting and closing as her eyes finally gave up and shut entirely.

It was normal to still bleed a bit after the baby was born, right? It wasn't normal to continue bleeding at this pace after the baby was born though, right?

For the first long while after she arrived safely, he didn't get to hold his daughter.

Marinette, on the other hand, would never be able to hold her daughter.

A hemorrhage after childbirth was not unheard of. It could happen, and there were treatments; but those treatments could ultimately fail. Sometimes when one was trying to be saved by a medical team, all options could lead to nothing. Even today, even in today's Paris, it was a common incident for the doctor to greet the family members, spouse, or next of kin, and give the sad shake of the head as they said that there was nothing more that they could do, that it was too late.

Some people just went far too fast to save.

Mari was one of those people.

What sort of reaction could be appropriate for learning that your wife died during what was supposed to be one of the best days of her (and yours as well) life? Would it be fair to scream, to cry, to perhaps beat up the doctors in anger over the fact that they could not do anything to rescue her from slipping away?

He felt like doing all three. A scream did threaten to rise in his throat, even with the giant lump in the middle of it. The back of his eyes burned and ached, yet they did remain dry through the whole process. And though he did feel like punching someone, he was far too exhausted to even get up from the chair he was seated in.

When Adrien did eventually rise, it was because they asked if he wanted to see Emma. He was told that despite everything, she was 100% fine. A miracle, pretty much. As common as death by childbirth was, it was just as probable that the infant could die as well. But, so far, nothing was deemed wrong with her. She was absolutely perfect.

Adrien was hesitant, at first. Not that he was mad at her - he could never be mad at her over this. He refused to put any anger on her for what had happened. But he was unsure that if he were to see her, that he would be able to hold in any of the sorrow that was enveloping his body.

Still, even with that hesitance, he got up and officially met Emma.

Typically, many newborn babies weren't the prettiest things. Not all of them looked like the pristine, adorable babies you'd see in articles and magazines. Marinette had joked that even if Emma looked like a lizard at first, she'd still be the cutest thing in the world to her.

At the thought of that memory, his throat began to close up again.

Emma was among the ranks of 'not the prettiest babies ever born', but obviously that didn't matter to him either. His heart swelled up when he first spotted her, first took her carefully into his arms, a pinch of happiness that steadily bloomed into something larger filling him. It pushed away his sadness; not by too much, but by just enough that he could truly enjoy this moment.

A tuft of blue-black hair laid on her head. Her eyes were tightly shut closed, so he couldn't tell if they were blue or green. He didn't know if he could stand if they were blue - she'd probably look too much like her mother. It'd be too much for him to handle.

One birthmark was nestled on her cheek, a mole. Her tiny hands were pushed into fists, and she waved them around absently as she made a gurgling noise.

It was then that he did cry, unexpectedly and suddenly. For her sake, he tried to be quiet, not wanting to startle the girl into crying along with him. Even so, she must have at least sensed his distress, as she snuffled and made a small whine deep in her throat.

Surprisingly, at least to him, there was some joy in those tears. When Marinette had been Ladybug, when they had been saving Paris as kids together, she had been the kind of superhero who would do anything to help anyone. Marinette had even revealed to Adrien that the reason she decided to really become Ladybug was to help Ayla out; she hadn't even thought twice about helping her best friend. She had been uncertain about being a hero, but once someone was threatened, she leapt into action.

"Your Maman was the kind of woman who would've sacrificed herself to make sure that someone else stayed alive," Adrien mumbled to Emma, voice thick with his tears. He reached up and placed a hand against her cheek, thumb stroking the birthmark. "I know she didn't fully have a say...but I also know she would've wanted you to be able to live, even if she couldn't."

He hiccupped, and Emma grabbed at one of his fingers with a surprisingly strong grip. It prompted a laugh from him.

"Just born and you already have her physical strength. I know you'll do just fine."

Later on, he said his final goodbyes to Marinette. The tears came fresh all over again, and this time he didn't even try to contain himself. If he needed to let it out, he needed to let it out.

Emma was brought home, to a house that was meant for three but now only housed two.

And as he dressed her up in the clothes that Marinette had made, put her in the nursery with the cartoon characters on the walls that Marinette had painted, his heart ached horribly, but he never felt any regret.

He would never feel any regret. 


End file.
